“Aye.”
“Good heavens. She was round at my place only about a week ago. Why didn’t she tell me?”
“That’s what I was wondering. First of all, she lied about where she worked. Then she said she didn’t work and that her parents were supporting her. Then she said she came up on an impulse. I am not a vain man but she seemed to be setting her cap at me.”
There was a silence, and then Priscilla said slowly, “I have been talking about you. I think she is a little bit jealous of me. Maybe she thought that if she could snare you, it might put my nose out of joint.”
Again that lurch at the heart.
“I’ll get rid of her.”
There was a silence. Then Priscilla said, “No, don’t spoil her holiday. She’s had bad luck with men and always chooses rotters. She’s actually very kind. When I had the flu last winter, she came round and nursed me and did all my shopping.”
“I thought your fiance, Peter, would have been on hand to do that.”
“He couldn’t spare the time. He works very hard. Maybe she could help you on this case.”
“What! Her? Priscilla, the lassie’s daft.”
“She’s got a knack of getting people to talk to her. People on the tube end up telling her their life stories.”
“The place is crawling with police. I haff no need of herself’s help,” said Hamish stiffly, the strength of his Highland accent showing he was upset. But what had he expected? That Priscilla would immediately fly up to confront Jenny? He had broken off the engagement because of Priscilla’s aloofness. Why go down that road again?
“Suit yourself,” said Priscilla.
“I usually do. When’s the wedding?”
“We’ve put it off again. Peter’s awfully busy. I’ll let you know.”
“Do that. I’d better get on with my work. Goodbye.” Hamish rang off and stared bleakly along the misty waterfront. The thick mist was beginning to shift and eddy like so many ghosts being called home.
He gave a sigh, then went in and sat down in front of Jenny. “Don’t ever lie to me again,” he said. “I’ve just spoken to Priscilla.”
“Oh, God.” Jenny’s face was scarlet and her large eyes were swimming with tears. “I’ll leave today.”
Hamish’s face softened. “No need for that. Let’s forget about the whole thing. Enjoy your holiday.” He stood up and, on impulse, bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
After he had left, Jenny slowly put her hand up to the cheek he had kissed.
Mrs. Dunne bustled in to clear the breakfast things away. “What did Hamish want?” she asked.
“Just asking questions about why I was here,” said Jenny. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I seem to have an allergy.”
“Morning!” Pat Mallone bounced into the breakfast room.
“I must ask you both to clear out of here,” said Mrs. Dunne. “It’s past time for me cleaning the dining room.”
“It’s all right,” said Pat cheerfully. “We’re just leaving. Got your coat?”
“Yes,” said Jenny, picking up her new anorak from the chair next to her. She followed him out onto the waterfront. “Where are we going? I was thinking of leaving today.”
“You can’t. We’ve got two murders to solve.”
“Isn’t that Hamish’s job?”
“What! The local bobby? In my opinion, that man’s overrated. Let’s go to Braikie and ask around. I’ve been sent to get local colour and background. The boss has a commission from the
¦
Hamish decided on arrival in Braikie that he should interview Penny Roberts, the headmistress’s pet. He knew if he approached Arkle, he would be told that he was disrupting lessons. He entered the school and knocked at the glass door of the secretary, Freda Mather.
He heard a faint ‘Come in’ and opened the door. Freda turned white when she saw him and swayed in her chair. He went quickly round behind her desk and said, “Now then, lassie, take deep breaths. That’s it. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She gulped in air and then said, “I’m all right now. Honest. When I saw you, the first thing I thought was that there had been another murder.”
“Now, why should you think that?”
“It’s silly. But there’s such an atmosphere of suspicion and threat around. I’m sorry. How can I help?”
“I would like a quiet word with Penny Roberts.”
“Mr. Arkle won’t like that.”
“Where is Mr. Arkle?”
“He’s away today. He’s at a board of education meeting.”
“So we don’t need to bother about him,” said Hamish bracingly. “And what he doesn’t know can’t upset him.”
“Won’t her parents need to be present?”
“No, it’s not as if she’s being charged with anything. You’ll do.”
Freda rose and went to the wall where class schedules were pinned up. “Penny’s in the art class at the moment and art is not her best subject. I’ll go and get her.”
Hamish waited patiently. Footsteps came and went in the corridor outside.
After he had interviewed Penny, he decided, he would get the home addresses of the teachers and call on them after school. He remembered his own school report: “brilliant but lazy.” His teachers had never really forgiven him for coming out on top in all the exams while apparently doing very little work. He wondered if Penny would turn out to be an egghead. Teachers felt comfortable with swots.
The door opened and Freda ushered in a teenager. She was a quite remarkable beauty. She had thick black hair and a perfect complexion and huge blue eyes. She was wearing the school uniform of grey sweater and grey pleated skirt with a blue shirt and striped tie. Hamish noticed that the skirt was very short and she was wearing sheer black tights and those clumpy shoes with thick soles like diving boots.
Freda produced two chairs for them and then sat down nervously behind her desk.
“I am PC Hamish Macbeth,” said Hamish.
“I know.” Penny smiled at him out of those incredible eyes and flicked a lock of glossy black hair over one shoulder. “Word gets around.”
“Now, Penny, I’ll get straight to the point. I’m trying to find out as much as I can about the character of your late headmistress.”
“Head teacher,” corrected Penny.
“Whatever. You see, sometimes the character of the deceased can give the police a clue as to why she was murdered. I believe you were something of a favourite with her.”
“Aye. She was all over me like a rash,” said Penny with an almost adult insouciance.
“So tell me about her.”
Penny shrugged. “She was always finding excuses to invite me round to her house. Said I had a brilliant future. Always making excuses that I need extra coaching in this and that. She said I didn’t want to rot the rest of my life in a place like Braikie. Oh, I ‘member. She got mad at me once. I told her I wasn’t going to the university. I mean, university in Strathbane! Spotty students. Dead-alive hole.” Another flick of the hair, a crossing of long legs, a sideways glance. “I told her I was going to be a television presenter and she went apeshit.”
“Penny!” admonished Freda.
“Sorry. But she went into full rant. Said television was full of men who would prey on me.
“I said, ‘What’s up with that?’ and she told me to get out of her house. But she sent me flowers the next day and an apology.”
“Didn’t your parents find her behaviour…weird?”
“Oh, Ma and Da think teachers are God. They could see nothing wrong with her.”
“Did it ever cross your mind that she might be a lesbian?”
